"I don't give a damn who you hired. Has something happened?"
"Could be nothin' at all. Might be somethin' in-terestin'. Hard to know."
Gabriel made a bid for his patience. "What are you talking about, man?"
"My boy says a message arrived at the back door of yer town house about an hour ago."
"What sort of message?" Gabriel demanded, exasperated.
"Don't know. He just said a message was delivered. Thought you'd like to know."
Gabriel was disgusted. "It could have been anything. One of the maids might be exchanging love notes with a footman in another household."
"Don't believe this was a love note, yer lordship." Stinton looked thoughtful. "Or if it was, it weren't directed to one of yer maids. My boy heard the messenger say it was for the lady of the house."
Gabriel surged to his feet and flung a few coins on the table. "Thank you, Stinton. That will cover your beer. Keep working on the other matter."
"Not havin' much luck in that department." Stinton sighed. "No one seems to know much about Mr. Baxter. Appears to have disappeared sometime during the past few days."
"Dig deeper." Gabriel was already halfway to the door.
Twenty minutes later he went up the steps of the town house. Shelton opened the door at once.
"Where is her ladyship?" Gabriel asked quietly.
"In her bedchamber, I believe," Shelton said. He took Gabriel's curly brimmed beaver hat. "Shall I send a maid to inform her you are at home?"
"That will not be necessary. I shall tell her myself."
Gabriel went past the butler and started up the staircase. He took the steps two at a time.
When he reached the landing, he strode quickly down the hall to Phoebe's door. He opened it without bothering to knock.
Phoebe, dressed in a bright violet gown trimmed in yellow, was sitting at her little gilt escritoire. She looked up, startled, as Gabriel stalked into the room.
"Gabriel. What on earth are you doing here? I did not know you were home."
"I understand you received a message a short while ago."
Her eyes widened in dismay. "How did you know?"
"That is not important. I would like to see the note, if you please."
Phoebe looked stricken. At the sight of her face, Gabriel's worst fears were confirmed. Whatever had been in the note was dangerous.
"My lord, I assure you, the note was insignificant. Merely a message from an acquaintance," Phoebe said quickly.
"Nevertheless, I wish to see it."
"But there is no need for you to concern yourself with it." Phoebe swallowed visibly. "Indeed, I am not certain I still have it. I probably tossed it away."
Gabriel's fears rose like flames, threatening to consume him. He quashed them beneath a cold, disciplined anger. "The note, Phoebe. I want it. Now."
Phoebe got to her feet. "My lord, I assure you, it would be better if you did not read it. I am certain it will only serve to annoy you."
"I appreciate your concerns," Gabriel said grimly. "But you will give me the note immediately, or I shall start searching for it."
Phoebe sighed. "I vow, my lord, you are turning into an extremely trying sort of husband."
"I am well aware I am not the man you once believed me to be," Gabriel said. "But as you yourself pointed out this afternoon, you are stuck with me now." He smiled thinly. "I am a member of the family, if you will recall."
"Only too well," Phoebe grumbled. She yanked open the small drawer in the center of her escritoire and pulled out a sheet of folded foolscap. "Very well. I was not going to show this to you because I knew it would alarm you, but since you insist …»
"I insist." He stepped forward and snatched the paper from her hand. He opened it and read the message swiftly.
My dearest Phoebe:
I grow increasingly concerned for your safety as each day passes. I recently learned how close you came to drowning and I know about the fire in your bedchamber. I fear for your life, my dear.
I have concluded your husband seeks to murder you in such a way that your family will believe it to be an accident. Like the pirate he is, Wylde wishes to seize your inheritance. He is using the methods spelled out in the curse at the end of The Lady in the Tower. Have you noticed?
You have married a cruel and dangerous monster who has always had a taste for the macabre. Just ask any of the handful of men who survived his vicious attacks at sea.
My dearest Phoebe, I must speak with you. I must have a chance to explain everything. I have no doubt but that Wylde has told you nothing but lies about me. I know you will not believe his malicious tales, but you undoubtedly have questions. For the sake of what we once meant to each other, let me answer those questions. 1 have proof. Let me save you from him.
I remain your most devoted admirer,
Lancelot
"Bastard." Gabriel crumpled the note savagely in his fist. He narrowed his eyes as he gazed down into Phoebe's anxious face. "You do not believe him, of course."
"Of course not." She stared at him as if she were trying to see beneath the surface of his skin. "Gabriel, are you angry?"
"What do you think? Baxter is attempting to seduce you into believing that he is innocent and that I am a villain who is attempting to murder you for the sake of your inheritance. Furthermore, he makes it clear he is still determined to play the role of Lancelot."
"I told you once, I am no Guinevere," Phoebe said proudly. "I am a great deal smarter than she was. Gabriel, you must trust me."
He smiled grimly. "Really? Tell me, my dear, when would you have gotten around to showing me this note?"
She paled. "I told you that I did not wish to alarm you with it."
"I assure you, I am far more alarmed by the fact that you had no intention of showing it to me."
"You don't understand."
"I understand only too well," Gabriel said. "I have got to find Baxter. And I must do so quickly. I must put a stop to this nonsense."
A knock on the door of Phoebe's bedchamber broke the tension in the room.
"What is it?" Phoebe called.
The door was opened by a maid who gave a quick curtsy. "Beggin' yer pardon, madam. Lady Clarington is downstairs askin' to see you at once."
"I'll be right down," Phoebe said. She glanced at Gabriel as she started toward the door. "Perhaps you should come also, my lord," she said coolly. "Mama may have news for us."
"Phoebe, wait." Gabriel started to put out a hand to restrain her and then changed his mind. He knew he had hurt her again, but he did not know what to do about it. Damn Baxter, he thought. This is all his fault.
Without a word Gabriel went downstairs with an equally silent Phoebe. She brightened up at once, however, as they walked into the drawing room.
Lydia, a vision of high fashion in soft peach, was seated on the sofa. She was bubbling over with eagerness. "There you are, Phoebe. I am glad Wylde is here, too. This should interest him."
"Good afternoon, Lady Clarington," Gabriel said formally.
"Mama, what have you found out?" Phoebe demanded as she seated herself.
"I played cards at Lady Clawdale's this afternoon," Lydia said. "Lost two hundred pounds, but it may have been worth it. I brought up Baxter's name very casually in the course of the conversation."
Gabriel frowned. "What did you learn?"
Lydia's eyes sparkled. "It seems that Lady Ran-tley recalls something about Neil Baxter having a mistress shortly before he left London three years ago. Apparently the woman was an actress."
"A mistress." Phoebe was plainly insulted. "Do you mean to say that while he was playing the part of my devoted Lancelot, he was keeping a mistress? Of all the bloody nerve."
Lydia met Gabriel's eyes and winked. Gabriel smiled ruefully. He definitely owed his mother-in-law a favor, he thought. She had done more to demolish Baxter's reputation in Phoebe's eyes in the past ten seconds than he had succeeded in doing in the past several days.